Meeting Skye
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: Just what the title suggests... the story of when Dean met Skye.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Meeting Skye

Author: MissAnnThropic

Spoilers: set in the Skyeverse (surrounding the fic "Wild by Skye")

LiveJournal: miss_annthropic(dot)livejournal(dot)com

Summary: Just what the title suggests… the story of when Dean met Skye.

Timeline: See the last chapter of "Wild by Skye" for a chronological listing of Skyeverse fics to know where exactly this falls in the timeline. Or, you know, just read the fic and figure it out! Or eat pie. I know which one Dean would vote for :)

Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(

A/N: You asked for it, you got it, Marina ;)

* * *

If truth be told, Dean should have realized sooner that there was something squirrelly with the hunt in Eclipse River, Oregon. Things were just 'off' from the get-go, but he was all too honest with himself in realizing the problem might not be the hunt... it might be him. His head wasn't where it should be for a hunt. He was still angry and upset about the way his family had literally blown apart. Sam was gone and furious, his dad wouldn't even talk about Sam, and Dean was just tired of it. All of it. He'd lived with the tension between Sam and John for years, watching every fight between them get worse and worse and just waiting for the day when Dean's mediating couldn't hold them together anymore.

He'd known it would happen someday. Sam was too intent on being normal, and John was too insistent that Sam was being selfish. They were both too stubborn to find any middle ground between their two points of view. What Dean _didn't_ expect was the free-for-all that ended the Winchester family hunting team. He'd known there would be a fight, sure, but he never thought John would tell Sam to leave and never come back.

John had been in the zone, riding the momentum of his own anger. Sam was braced against the onslaught already, impervious by then to anything John said. The ultimatum didn't seem to even put a dent in either of them. But _Dean_... he'd felt like he'd had a small heart attack. It _hurt_.

And then Sam was gone, and if this was the one order from John that Sam obeyed then it was gone for good, and Dean was just standing there in the corner shaking. He hadn't even gotten a word in. That was always his job. Hold the family together just a little while longer.

And he'd failed.

But maybe it would have been salvageable, maybe Dean could have glued them back together, if John hadn't told Sam to never come back.

How could Dean fix _that_?

As always after a John-Sam blowout, Dean was mad at both of them. Mad at Sam for pushing John, mad at John for not realizing there was obviously _something_ Sam desperately needed and was clearly trying to make their father understand, but he was never so mad at them before that he couldn't get along with one in the absence of the other. It was his in, his foot in the door to work toward getting John and Sam talking to each other again.

Not that time. What John had said to Sam… that was just unforgivable. Sam was always supposed to be able to come back.

Not anymore. John ended that.

Dean was angry. He was hurt. For once, he was so upset with John that he could hardly look at him. John had never disappointed Dean like that before - not when he forgot birthdays, or didn't make it home for Christmas, or made them move two weeks before the end of the school year. That was all fine by Dean, but banishing Sam would _never_ be okay.

Dean needed time alone to think, to cool off and figure things out.

So he left John to hunt on his own.

Maybe John understood why Dean needed time, because the grizzled old hunter didn't offer a word of protest. He nodded silently and let Dean go. Dean left in the dangerous wake Sam had cut in his furious departure.

The hunt in Eclipse River, Oregon, should have been straight-forward and simple. Werewolf. Easy answer.

In retrospect, Dean realized the little inconsistencies that he _should_ have noticed right off the bat.

But then, those little details were always Sam's forte. Point Dean in the right direction, and he'd kill whatever was in front of him. Sam was the one who asked the questions, did the research, did the pointing. Dean never realized how much he relied on Sam until he didn't have his little brother at his back.

Eclipse River was a town smack in the middle of the Pacific Northwest woods, which was both good and bad. Good, because there were fewer people for the werewolf to kill in the woodlands than in a city, bad because it meant tracking the thing on foot. John had hammered into both his boys survival training up to Marine Corps standards, but that didn't mean Dean liked being out of touch with civilization. Things just seemed to go twice as south when it went south outside of cell phone coverage.

Dean picked his way through the foliage, disgruntled and edgy – personally, he was one of few hunters that didn't care for the whole 'hunting alone' gig. He'd grown up hunting with family, and he preferred it that way. Then he thought of the last time he saw his father and brother again and pressed onward, grim and determined.

The forest wasn't eerily quiet the way it usually was in the presence of a supernatural being, and that should have been another indicator to Dean that he wasn't on the trail of what he thought he was, but it was the second night of the full moon, and Dean had just passed signs of campers. A campsite, but no campers in sight. Great. Why did people feel the need to leave their homes to sleep in a tent? Camping sucked.

Dean found tracks leading away from the site, human, someone running. One good thing about hunting at night during a full moon, there was a lot of light to see by once the eyes got used to the dark.

The off-key details became background noise, the absence of cicadas incidental. Like a bloodhound with the leash off, Dean went to work.

When Dean heard screaming, his pace quickened. Tracks underfoot forgotten, he charged ahead toward the sound.

He expected to come upon a whacked-out guy with a wicked set of fangs and gnarly claws, snarling and growling like a reject for an open casting call for the old-style version of Wolfman.

Well, it definitely wasn't that.

The yelling was almost deafening by the time Dean rounded the last tree in his way between him and the… whatever a guy in distress was called. Saving people was a less fantastic job when it was saving guys versus hot chicks, but Dean was just a saint like that.

Dean came charging up, gun raised and ready to bury a silver bullet in the werewolf's heart…

But he froze for a second when the scene before him didn't fit with what he had expected.

The hiker was pressed with his back against a copse of trees, effectively pinning him in. To give the guy credit, he had a good-size stick in his hand that he was using to fend off…

Well, _not_ a werewolf. Dean gaped when he saw a wolf, a no-shit actual wolf, standing in front of the guy, its legs braced apart and the hair on the back of its neck and shoulders bristled, making it look like some strange cross between a wolf and a razorback. Dean could hear it snarling and growling, teeth snapping as it stepped forward.

The hiker screeched and swung at the wolf with his stick. The wolf jumped back, but only enough to keep out of range of the stick. Not enough to give the guy a chance to run.

Like it would do any good. Dean wasn't a nature channel kind of guy, but he knew a human couldn't outrun a wolf.

So it wasn't the werewolf he was expecting, but there was still someone in trouble, and Dean was there with a gun in hand.

"Hey!"

Both wolf and man startled at Dean's bark; the man looked up desperately, wary of sparing the newcomer even a glance's worth of taking his attention away from the wolf, and the wolf whirled around and Dean got a good look at the business-end of one of the food chain's top predators.

The wolf looked seriously pissed as it glared at Dean with fierce golden eyes.

Dean expected the animal to lunge at him, but it didn't. If he didn't know any better, Dean would have sworn the thing knew what a gun was.

"Get out of here!" Dean yelled at the guy backed against the trees.

Before the guy even budged, the wolf turned one ear back toward its prey. If Dean didn't know it was impossible, he'd say the wolf actually understood Dean's words. It slavered madly at Dean's command like it understood but did not take its eyes off the hunter with a gun trained on it.

The man nodded vigorously, scrambled to his feet, and took off into the woods.

Then it was just Dean staring down a wolf with a semi-automatic handgun.

The wolf lowered its head and stalked slowly, calculatingly, to one side, eyes never wavering from Dean.

He should shoot, he knew he should, but _Sam's_ voice was in his head. He could imagine Sam, if he were at his brother's side like he should have been, imagining everything the youngest Winchester would have said.

_Maybe it's hurt. Maybe it's just hungry. Wolves don't go around killing people for no reason, Dean. It's just scared. Let's try to help it before we kill it_.

Okay, maybe Sam wouldn't be all _that_ humane society PSA about it, he _was_ a hunter after all, but he'd voice the cons of just popping a slug in the thing on sight.

The wolf growled viciously at Dean, white teeth exposed and pale in the moonlight.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean mumbled, "but this is Old Yeller, plain and simple."

Sam had cried his eyes out when they watched that movie as a kid, too.

Dean shook himself from the memory. What the hell was wrong with him? He was remembering his baby brother bawling during Old Yeller when he had the real thing, but worse, snarling and frothing right in front of him? He had to focus.

Which meant wasting White Fang.

Dean's finger moved to the trigger.

The wolf suddenly went stone still. It stopped growling, it stopped pacing. It froze and locked a penetrating, searing look at him. It made Dean pause for half a breath. Mad and good as dead it may be, but this wolf was really giving him the creeps.

If Sam had been with him on the hunt, he would have researched wolves before they marched off into the woods. He would have known if it was normal for a wolf to look so… aware of Dean's intentions.

Dean hated hunting alone.

Dean began to close his index finger over the trigger, sights locked on the wolf's chest.

The only thing Dean knew for certain in the next instant was that the weight that barreled into him suddenly was _not_ the wolf lunging at him. He was milliseconds from firing his gun, the wolf a glowering fifteen feet away, when something else slammed into Dean and knocked him back. Not something… some_one_ (although, for a split second, he could _swear_ it felt like a wolf, fur and all).

His finger already so snug on the trigger before he was jarred so roughly, the gun went off but the shot went wild.

Dean had no idea what the hell was going on, but he balled himself up and fell back on his training. He tucked his chin toward his chest as he fell backward, pushed with his arms to free up some space between him and his attacker, got a foot up into the center of mass, and as he landed on his back he kicked as hard as he could.

The person who'd jumped him was a light-weight. Dean's attacker went flying over Dean's head (Dean had given enough kick to toss a bar-crawling biker) while Dean scrambled to regain his feet.

Then he had to decide which threat to face. A crazed wolf at his back, or the mysterious attacker at his front.

_Damn_, but he wished Sam were with him.

Shock factor stole his options from him. He set eyes on the person he'd sent sailing and blinked… it was a woman. A beautiful _naked_ woman.

"What the _hell_…?!" Dean yelped, almost incredulous at the sudden twist to his night. Just when he was sure the hunt could not get _any_ weirder…

The woman was standing once more, on her bare feet and braced to face him, empty hands held out to her sides to meet an attack. Her dark hair was tousled, her skin almost ivory in the moonlight, and damn there was a lot of it for Dean to feast his eyes upon.

If she hadn't just tackled him during a hunt, she was someone he would be trying very hard to get to know.

But he would expect to meet her in a diner, not in the middle of the woods, sandwiching Dean between a naked hottie and a wild animal.

At the thought…

Dean tore his eyes from the woman and turned to look behind him at the wolf. It was still there, and it, too, was staring at the woman. Dean did a double-take when he got a good look at the wolf's expression. The animal was eyeing the woman almost like it _knew_ her, and it was not happy she was there.

Utterly baffled, Dean spared another glance at the nude beauty.

Dean found he'd been dismissed as the woman and wolf watched each other.

Then the woman spoke, gentle and pleading. "Trey…" She took a step toward the wolf, one hand held out to it.

Dean's eyebrows shot skyward. Holding out a hand to that thing was the _last_ thing Dean would do.

The wolf stiffened at her voice.

When she took another step closer, the wolf's lip curled to bear a hint of dangerous teeth.

"Trey," she said again, tone desperate.

The wolf was readying itself to attack.

Dean rolled his eyes. The chick had jumped him, yeah, and he planned on giving her a sound piece of his mind about that, but he still couldn't just stand by and watch her get ripped to shreds for being out of her mind.

When she stepped forward again, bringing her near Dean, he reached toward her, an arm out to hold her back, and he angled himself to face the wolf, gun rising to aim at the wild animal. "Watch it…" he warned, being all heroic and self-sacrificing on her behalf.

He would have expected, you know, gratitude for putting himself in harm's way for the sake of a woman he didn't know, but what he got was an elbow in the jaw.

Dean, startled for the second time that night by the chick, stumbled a step away. "_Son of a_…!"

"Trey… run!" the woman cried.

Dean straightened, incensed, and saw the wolf flinch, look from the woman to Dean, down at the gun in Dean's hand, then the animal turned to flee.

Dean couldn't let it go. It would just hurt someone else. He jerked up his gun to fire.

The woman jumped in the path of his barrel. Dean jerked his gun up and away from pointing at her perfect, bare breasts. "_Damnit_!" he barked in frustration. The wolf vanished into the forest. Thankfully, it ran off in the opposite direct than the hiker had fled, which was about the only good luck Dean had caught so far.

Then Dean was alone in the woods with a beautiful nude woman he really, _really_ wanted to hit.

Dean dropped his gun to his side and looked at her. "Lady, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me?! You were going to _shoot_ him," she snapped back, venomous and, oh yeah, still totally naked. "I couldn't let you do that."

Dean scoffed. "Well, you win the PETA award for whacked activist." Dean took a step closer to her and gestured condescendingly to where the camper had moments ago been trapped. "News flash for you, that wolf was about to tear some poor guy's guts out!"

She looked sickened by that, at least.

Dean, standing that much closer to her, couldn't help the dance of his eyes downward over her undeniably sexy body. Immediately, he jerked back, turning partially away to avoid the temptation to ogle. He wanted to be mad at her, damnit. Stay mad at her. So what if she was hot and naked?

"And just what the hell are you doing traipsing around the woods bare-ass naked? Is Eclipse River Norman Rockwell by day, nudist colony by night?" Dean rubbed at his forehead, "Man, I'm glad I steered clear of the senior citizen center after dark."

"Who are you?"

Dean turned indignantly toward the woman. Yep, still naked. "Who am _I_?"

"You're a stranger here… why have you come?" She was standing with shoulders square, chin held high, brown eye locked on him, and her gaze boring into him with unyielding intensity. She was definitely not diminished by the fact she was facing Dean without a stitch of clothing on.

Dean's eyes widened. The _nerve_ of this lady… of this delectable, fiery, unclothed…

'Focus, Dean!' he scolded himself.

"I'm here because people are dying," Dean ground out as evenly as humanly possible. "And thanks to that stunt you just pulled, more people could die because of that _thing_. I could have stopped it."

"He's none of your business!"

Dean stared at her, flabbergasted. She was furious as hell, that was obvious, but Dean couldn't help noting a hint of desperation in her voice, too. It gave him pause. "You called it 'Trey'…" Dean mulled that over a second. "Ah shit, don't tell me that animal is your _pet_." This really _was_ Old Yeller.

Her eyes flashed hotly. "Wolves are no one's _pets_," she seethed. "They belong to the wild."

Dean shook his head. "Look, Miss Nature-"

"Skye."

Dean hesitated. "All right, then, _Skye_… I'm here to stop a killer. I'm not leaving until I do that."

Skye advanced toward him, and Dean, for lack of any better idea what he was supposed to do when a furious naked woman was moving intently in his direction (since he figured grabbing her and kissing her senseless – his first instinct in such a situation – wasn't an option in this case), he flinched back a step. What else was he supposed to do, punch her in the nose?

Skye stopped only a foot from him, a wall of feminine fury that Dean felt like a storm front at his chest. "You hurt him and I'll hurt you." She sounded deadly serious.

Never mind that she was smaller, lighter, _daintier_ than Dean (not to mention, at the moment, completely unarmed), something in her eyes made him believe she'd do it.

Or at least give it a damn good college effort.

College… shit, how he'd kill for some backup in the form of one puppy-eyed little brother. Sam could probably talk this girl down from buckets of crazy, but Dean… well…

"You and what army?"

Oh wow, mature.

Despite all her anger and threatening, Skye's lips twitched for half a heartbeat in a smirk. Apparently the absolute childishness of his remark wasn't lost on her.

So much for intimidating her into submission.

Standing so close to her, Dean couldn't help but notice just how attractive she was up close and personal. It would be easier to be irate with her if she were a dog, but truth of the matter was that Dean was a sucker for a pretty face. And a pretty body. And Skye had them both… in spades.

Dean cleared his throat. "Do you have any clothes you can put on?"

Skye arched an eyebrow at him. "Does it look like I came packing provisions?"

A suggestive innuendo about how he was the one 'packing' almost slipped his tongue out of habit, but Dean reminded himself this woman had let a man-killer wolf go loose.

Bottom line was, Dean wasn't going to manage much of an on-topic conversation with her standing around totally naked. He was a hearty, healthy twenty-four-year-old man, after all. Was he _not_ supposed to notice a naked young woman? 'Give a guy a break!' Dean thought to that little Sam voice in his head snorting at him.

Grumbling, Dean stuffed his gun in the waistband of his jeans and peeled out of his jacket. He held it out to Skye.

For a second, she looked at it like she couldn't imagine what he wanted her to do with it.

"Oh, for Christ's… will you just put it on?" Dean groused. It would be easier to fight with her when he couldn't see her breasts.

After a pause, Skye took his jacket and put it on. It didn't cover nearly enough leg for his own good, but it was a vast improvement. Skye shrugged the too-big shoulders of the coat closer to her and briefly turned her face into the material and sniffed.

Dean narrowed his eyes but didn't comment.

"If we're going to keep at this shouting match," Skye said calmly with a hint of steel in her voice, "at least let me know what I should call you besides 'asshole'."

Dean snorted. "It's Dean… and how can you possibly call _me_ the asshole in this situation? I was trying to save lives."

"What about Trey's?"

"The _wolf's_? Honey, down to a choice between a human life and an animal's, well, no contest."

Skye's jaw tightened. "You should leave, _Dean_. You have no business being here. You have no idea what you're dealing with."

"Oh, well, please, _enlighten_ me. Because I'll tell you what it _looks_ like I have on my hands. A rabid wolf with a taste for human flesh and a streaking animal rights activist with a death wish. How am I doing so far?"

"_Hunters_ aren't welcome here," she warned darkly.

Dean went stock-still. She'd found him about to shoot a wolf, so she could well mean the traditional definition of the word 'hunter'…

But somehow, by her tone, he didn't think so.

"What do you know about it?" he asked lowly.

"That if the others knew what you were, and why you were here, they'd come after you."

This was starting to feel distinctly like deep shit. It was just a hunter sixth sense that kicked in well after stumbling into a trap moments before it was sprung. "What others?" he asked warily.

Skye frowned at him. "You should leave, Dean. For your own good."

Little did she know that Dean Winchester didn't scare that easy. "Listen, _Skye_… I don't know what you think I am, and I don't care. I have a job to do, and I'm not going anywhere until it's done."

"Well, then we have a problem."

Then they stood there staring stubbornly at each other, at an impasse.

Skye canted her head as she looked closely at him, reminding Dean of a dog catching a curious sound. "Trey is my responsibility. I'll bring him home, _alive_, and god help anything that stands in my way."

Dean gave her an assessing look. He did not doubt her sincerity. "I don't know what your deal with that animal is, not your pet, fine, whatever, but that wolf is a killer. He has to be stopped."

"He's _sick_," Skye insisted.

"Yeah, in the head, and I'm sorry, but there's only one cure for that."

Skye scowled darkly at him. "Is that the only answer your kind knows? Just kill it? Do you not give a shit about the lives you destroy in the process?"

"The only lives I'm interested in are the ones being taken by that rabid animal."

"I won't let you murder him," Skye said lowly, dangerously.

'Murder? Interesting choice of words given it's just an animal,' Dean thought. "So, great, what? We just keep tracking this thing, fouling each other's work every step of the way? Gee, that's going to be fun." Dean scratched the back of his neck in frustration.

The two stood in silence a few moments, obviously taking stock of their options.

It was Skye who spoke first. "Listen, Dean… are you interested in stopping Trey or just in killing him?"

"You ask like they're different."

"They _are_."

Dean doubted that, but…

Sky was watching him intently, hanging on his answer.

"My honest opinion, I don't think this animal will be stopped until it's dead. _But_… if it was possible to trap it or…," Dean shrugged, "my main concern is stopping it from killing any other people. That's why I'm here. Beyond that, I don't care what happens to the damn thing."

Skye chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip a moment, which happened to be monumentally distracting, before she said, "You're right… fighting each other the whole way is only going to slow us both down. And if I can't get rid of you until Trey's stopped… if you can agree to capturing Trey instead killing him, maybe…" Skye looked loathed to continue her train of thought. "Maybe would could work together."

Work with the fanatic nudist?

Dean weighed his options. He wasn't sure how much of a nuisance she would be, thwarting his hunt at every turn, but he worried that having her always foiling his efforts would end in her getting hurt. Regardless of what he might think of her, she was still an innocent woman. She was exactly the people Dean was trying to protect from the dark supernatural forces in the underbelly of the world.

And maybe she wasn't Trey's owner (as she so emphatically pointed out wolves didn't have owners), but she obviously knew the animal. Maybe it would give him an edge tracking it. She could know where he would go, his patterns, his habits.

Besides which, she was a local. She knew the forest and surrounding area like Dean could never hope to in the short time he'd have to learn it during the hunt.

And hell, who knew? Maybe they _could_ catch the wolf. Lock it up somewhere so it couldn't snack on campers anymore. What did it matter to Dean if Skye wanted to angst over the crazed animal in a cage for the rest of its pathetic life?

Maybe, if Skye saw more of what the animal was doing, she would realize that death was the only merciful end for everyone's suffering, the wolf's included.

And damnit, he didn't like this whole 'hunting alone' business. He knew the hole left by his side where Sam should have been couldn't be filled by this hot chick, but her voice, her presence, the imitation of a fellow hunter alongside him, it might be its own distraction, and Dean was eager for a distraction from the disaster of his broken family right about now. And if he was going to find himself a distraction, he could do a hell of a lot worse than a beautiful chick like Skye. In fact, that had 'Dean Winchester distraction of choice' written all over it.

Plus, there was the proven fact (that had to be taken into consideration) that Dean would consent to just about anything if it was asked of him by a gorgeous woman, and Skye definitely qualified as that. More than once, Sam had accused Dean of being led around by his…

"All right," Dean agreed.

Skye looked none-too-thrilled about the arrangement, but she nodded. "Okay."

Dean waved an arm in the direction the animal had gone. "So… shall we?"

Skye didn't move. "He'll bed down for the night now. We can pick up his trail tomorrow."

"And you aren't worried he'll disappear?"

"He won't leave his home territory. He's been, he… he's home now, and he won't leave."

Dean shrugged. "Fine, then. So, want to meet tomorrow and work out our plan of attack?"

Skye gave him a sharp look for his choice of words, then gauged him silently before nodding. "Tanya's Diner, on the edge of town, nine o'clock in the morning."

"Can't wait," Dean drawled sarcastically. He started back the way he'd come when Skye was suddenly next to him (how she moved so fast and silently honestly unnerved Dean). She touched his shoulder. "Here."

He looked down and saw that she was returning his jacket to him. She was, once again, standing bare and beautiful in the woods.

Dean gaped as he dumbly accepted his jacket from her. "Aren't you… uh… you can wear it home, you know… give it back to me at Tanya's."

Skye, for the first time she they'd met, really smiled. Dean swallowed, despite himself. If her anger was hot, her smile was smoking hot.

'You are in so much trouble, Dean,' Dean's inner voice (the one that sounded a hell of a lot like Sam) sing-songed.

"Don't need it," Skye countered, and she started to move away.

Dean blinked after her, stunned, then called out, "Hey! You will be wearing _clothes_ tomorrow, right?"

Skye didn't turn to answer him. She bounded lithely into the shadowed forest then simply disappeared.

Dean stood staring, jacket in hand.

This hunt had definitely taken the exit to weird-ass.

Shaking his head tiredly to himself as he started back toward town, Dean muttered under his breath, "Sammy will not believe this one." Werewolf hunt ends in Dean being tackled by a beautiful naked woman.

Dean slipped his jacket back on; it was warm from her bare skin against the inner lining, and Dean gave too much thought to the notion he'd had a _naked woman_ wrapped up in his coat. Intrigued by Skye's earlier gesture when she'd put on his jacket, and spared any sense of humiliation being in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, Dean lifted one side of the jacket and buried his nose in the fabric, inhaling experimentally. It smelled softly of pine and the fairer sex.

Dean smirked and let go his hold on his jacket.

If nothing else, this hunt should prove interesting.

END

* * *

A/N: Since the reader response to my question in Wild by Syke about the prevailing opinion about Skye wasn't 'hatred with the fiery passion of a thousand suns', I decided to give posting the prequel ficlets a go and see how they are received. *Dons fire-retardant suit in preparation for flames*

Funny thing about the Dean/Skye pairing is that, in almost all instances, I'm in the camp with the SPN fans who don't like female characters in SPN fandom. But when I decided I wanted to write a wolf!Dean story - and tried to come up with a story for how it happened - I realized I couldn't imagine Dean accepting and LOVING being a lycanthrope if he didn't associate it with a woman he had really loved that made it a good experience for him. Otherwise, I think too much of the hunter in Dean would make him hate it on principle, and I didn't want to write a 'I'm a monster' story. In my mind, Skye was the only way Dean could love being the wolf.


	2. Chapter 2

This update is being added to "Meeting Skye" and "Skye Smile" only because that is the only way I can reshuffle the fics as they appear on ff(dot)net's page so that "Wild by Skye" is, appropriately, the oldest fic in the Skyeverse as you scroll through ff(dot)net's listing of fics. So excuse the repetition if you've already seen this once!

So it's not completely pointless, I'll take this opportunity to direct those interested readers to the Skyeverse community for a ficlet simply entitled "Dean and Skye" that will not be posted on ff(dot)net because it contains mature content that ff(dot)net policy would say should not be posted here, and which I am going to respect.

* * *

You asked for it, you got it! After the response to the poll question 'would anyone be interested in a website for the Skyeverse' came back with a prevailing 'yes', my techno-friend has done just that.

All of the fics listed above can be found on this site, as well as fics omitted from ff(dot)net due to a more mature content rating, videos, fanart, and anything else that might come to mind. I hope everyone checks it out and enjoys!

Link: community(dot)livejournal(dot)com/skyeverse/

(dot)=period

MissAnnThropic


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